Domination (Explicitly Yours 2)

“I challenge any man to be okay with knowing the woman he loves was just with someone else. Not just the act of it, but the intimacy. The closeness. The touching, whispering.” He glanced over at her, narrowing his eyes a fraction. “I’m not okay with it. Far from it.”

His voice was almost accusatory, as if he were in Johnny’s shoes. “Are you talking about him or yourself? Does it bother you, Johnny and me?”

He returned his eyes forward as they approached the car, and it was a moment before he answered. He leaned over to open the door for her. “Yes.”

She didn’t move. “But I’m not the woman you love.”

He remained passive except that the angles of his jaw sharpened. “Just imagine if you were.”

7

Within seconds of pulling away from the curb of Lola’s apartment complex, Beau placed his hand just inside the slit of her dress and squeezed gently. She didn’t expect his touch to overwhelm her like it did, as if it were the eye of a hurricane, the spot the rest of her body revolved around. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him off.

“What’s wrong?” His cheek dimpled at one corner of his mouth.

“It’s too much,” she said.

“But it’s nothing.”

“It should be.”

He replaced his hand but this time slid it under the dress. “You say you’re doing this for the money. Maybe that’s what he needs to hear. Your body tells a different story, though.” His fingers edged along the inside of her thigh. “I know the other night’s played a loop in your thoughts, just like it has in mine.”

She shored up her resolve. Beau no doubt expected her to give in completely, but it was early. It was his nature to push, and it was hers to push back. She was having a hard time remembering why she should, though, with his hand burning against her skin. “Where are you taking me tonight?” she asked to change the subject.

“Care to take a guess?”

“In this gown, somewhere fancier than I’ve ever been. Right?”

“I don’t know where you’ve been.” He was teasing her, mischief in his twinkling eyes.

She pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. “There’s a movie premiere in Hollywood.”

“Not that unusual.”

She shifted in her seat. “And the L.A. Opera season opened this week. La Traviata is playing.”

“You’ve given this some thought.”

“I looked online.” Lola didn’t want to sound overeag

er, but she’d been wondering all afternoon what was in store. “Of course, it’s L.A.—there’re tons of things happening. But those both sounded exciting.”

He smiled. “Our first stop is to see my sister in the Hollywood Hills. It won’t take five minutes.”

Lola’s brows furrowed. While researching Beau, she hadn’t read anything about siblings. “You never mentioned a sister. Is she younger or older?”

“Younger by a couple years. You can wait in the car if you’d like.”

She feigned interest in her fingernails. “Yes, that’s probably best.”

After a brief silence, he said, “Or, you can meet her. I’d like that.”

She glanced up. “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Not for me. Brigitte and I often attend the same events, so she’s met some of my dates.”

“Were they also paid to stand by your side, though?”

Beau looked as though he’d bitten into a lemon. “Of course not. You don’t have to give her all the details.”

“Right,” she said. “I guess that would be fine.”

“Good.” He rubbed her leg. “I like that you wore the dress,” he said softly. “I like that you shaved your legs again. Even if it wasn’t for me.”

His hand moved over her skin as though they’d never parted. Their connection hadn’t weakened with time apart. She was just as hungry for his hand to move higher—to give her what only he could. She was supposed to be pushing back, but his pull was strong.

“It was,” she said.

She was there, somewhere she both did and did not want to be. She could fight—he would win. She could give everything over—he would demand more. There was a war in and outside of her. Her against herself. Her against him. His weapons were growing, even as she inched over to his side.

He moved a little closer. His stiff hair smelled of men’s product. She reached up and took a piece that had separated and fallen over his forehead. She slid her fingers along it to put it in place, but it just swung back. He had touched her—her chin, her leg, his lips to hers, his hand around hers, but she had not yet touched him except for that strand of hair. She wanted more. Wasn’t it okay to take it? Isn’t that what all three parties involved had agreed to?